


Bear Bone

by VealChopz



Category: Care Bears, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:29:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VealChopz/pseuds/VealChopz
Summary: A requested submission.  A story with the following prompts:Dresden Files, CareBears, Ichabod Crane, Guy Richie Themed, with "banging"As seen on Freddy's Fan Fiction





	

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. And I never thought in a million years that a tiny, blue bear face could house such unholy rage. I also never thought I would actually be afraid of a tiny blue bear. But there I was. Adorable blue murder bear on my chest... and I was desperately trying to keep my bowels from voiding. But how I got here was the more interesting part. It started with a call from Murphy.

"You heard me Dresden."  
I had heard what Murphy had said. However, the combination of sleep brain and the confusing information the tiny blonde had funneled into my earhole were clogging up my ability to process what was just said to me.

"Colorful bears. Tiny colorful bears. On tape." My voice sounded as confused and muddled as I felt. Off the top of my head I couldn't think of an entity or being that fit that description. Yes, this was exactly the kind of job for a Wizard. Sometimes, I regret putting a listing in the yellow pages. But that was then and this was now. And Murphy gave a sigh into the receiver of the phone. "I'll be right there, Murph."

Mister, my insanely large cat, and Mouse, my even larger Temple dog, were looking at me like a discarded sandwich. I decided it was in the best interest of all of us if I opted to feed my companions instead of shower. It's not like I was going on a date with Murphy. I was going to solve a mystery. Showering could wait until later.

Once I had fed my over sized pets (Mister wasn't a pet- I actually considered him something closer to a landlord. Since I was the one living with him, not the other way around,) I dressed myself and headed out to my Blue Beetle.

To call the old Volkswagen Blue was a serious misrepresentation of the color blue. The doors were each another color along with the roof of the vehicle. Inside, the seats had been eaten away by a demon of decay. Because that was the kind of luck I had with this vehicle. But the Beetle still ran. And that's all I could ask for.

The trip to the address Murphy had given me was uneventful and as I pulled up to the tanning salon, that tiny part of my brain that screams at anything started its incessant wailing. I locked that part of my brain away and made my way inside the tiny establishment. The smell of lotions, oils, and... burnt meat filled my nose instantly and I fought the urge to gag.

From the look on Murphy's face, the tiny little blonde police woman was fighting the same urge. I gave Murph the most reassuring smile I could muster. Her expression told me it wasn't working so I put my energy back into not throwing up the lining of my stomach. "You said bears, Murphy. Not..." I looked at the charred remains of the young woman in the tanning bed. "She looks like a hot dog that has been on the grill too long."

I instantly regretted that comment. Images of shredded and curled hot dog casings popped into my head, causing my body to attempt to eject all of my internal organs. Swallowing seemed to easy my body's outburst. "Sorry. What does this have to do with bears?"

Instead of speaking to me, Murphy held up a grainy photograph that looked as if it was taken from a security camera. Smart. Any technology built after World War Two seemed to dislike me and me it. Just for coming within several feet of the actual camera, the machine probably would have offed itself in pure spite.

The photograph was taken off what looked like the entrance camera of the tanning salon. In the image were five... tiny bears dressed as Hasidic Jews. Even as I think it, the image is bizarre and hurts my brain a little bit. But there they were. Five little bears dressed in dark hats with curly rings of hair sticking out from under the brims... in dark coats... and toting guns. Large guns. 

I blinked stupidly at Murphy for a moment. There was no way this image could be real. But as I stared at her, she began pulling out pictures. Each similar. Five different locations, all the images were the same bears... in the same clothes... "What... the hell is this, Murphy?"

Murphy's expression changed from mild nausea to concern. The expression did nothing for her impish face. The first photo had a little baggie of orange fur clippings in it. I moved the baggie to look at the picture of what looked like a slab of meat in a butcher. Except the slap of meat... was the butcher himself. Murphy's voice cut off my dumbfounded blinking. "His heart was tenderized. With a mallet. We found that lump of hair jammed in the man's throat."

The other three pictures were similar, yet completely different. A park ranger, mauled to death by woodland creatures, a tuft of brown hair. A harpist who's brain seemed to be liquefied out her ears, a tuft of purple hair. A man drowned in sea water and.. attacked by sea creatures... with a tuft of bluish green hair left. It made no sense. Each crime scene had similar security images. 

Murphy then handed me a file folder. Before I could stupidly ask what the packet was, she cleared her throat. "Each victim was the recipient of a rare piece of jewelry through various estate sales and wills. Those items are now missing. What the hell is this, Harry?"

I hated when Murphy just assumed I knew exactly what was happening at all times on the corner of weird and what the hell. The odd findings along with the odd creatures meant I was going to have to do some digging. And I knew just the skull to get me headed in the right direction.

After leaving Murphy, I made my way home and made sure to stop by Burger King to thank my guts for staying intact at the tanning salon. I grabbed burgers for the fuzzy brigade waiting for me at home. You only show up at home smelling of desperation and onion rings without enough to share once. 

I had entered my apartment and fed the guardians of my small studio apartment before putting on my thick bathrobe and descending into my sub basement. The walls were covered in homemade shelves that were overburdened with boxes of random stuff. Except for one small area of cleared off shelving where a white skull sat, surrounded by smutty novels. I stared at the lazy skull. "Bob. Time to get up."

Two orange lights appeared in empty eye sockets. They seemed to glare at me. "Why is it whenever I'm having a really good dream, you show up here and wake me, Harry? Isn't it bad enough I'm confined to your basement?"

I ignored Bob's whining as I began to lay out the photographs Murphy had given me along with the tufts of hair on the long table that took up a majority of the space in my sub basement. Instead of answering Bob, I walked over to his perch and deftly picked up the skull with one hand, placing it on the table in the center of the photos. From where I stood, this almost looked like a corny ritual from a spook movie. I gave Bob all of the info I had retrieved at the crime scene. Hopefully the spirit's vast knowledge would trigger something. Anything. "Does any of this make any sense to you?"

To this day, I'm not sure how he did it, but Bob seemed to make a sound as if he was clicking his tongue against his teeth. "This is bad Harry." 

I could have bashed the skull into the wall. "Really, Bob? I hadn't noticed. Can you give me any more specifics?"

If Bob had actual eyes I am sure he would have rolled them at me. I clearly needed to learn to be patient and not interrupt. Bob continued with a slight edge of annoyance to his voice. "This is an exact replica of a ritual that was attempted in 1820. In a small town called Sleepy Hollow. At the time, the only suspect in the brutal slaying of five people and the sudden summoning of a headless horseman was an unassuming school teacher. Of course, times being what they were, things were dropped by the White Council. But the ritual was never completed and the Horseman vanished. Along with Ichabod Crane."

Headless Horsemen and Ichabod Crane? Bob was clearly WAY too into Halloween because it was beginning to take over the rest of the week as well. "Seriously, Bob? Halloween was yesterday. Cut the crap. What is this?"

Bob sighed. "Harry, of anyone YOU should know that stories and fables often times come from real events. This is one of them. The records don't say what happened to Ichabod Crane. But I know the Never Never worked hard to prevent this from happening again."

I looked at the skull for a long moment before circling back around to inspect the tuft of hair. "What do you make of the Grateful Dead Bears? They're nothing like I've seen before."

Bob's glowing orange orbs studied me intently. "They're Care Bears, Harry. Summer Court's little ritual castors."

Care Bears. No. There was no such thing. But then I remembered what Bob had just told me. Most stories come from real events. "You mean to tell me that Care Bears are real? And they work for Summer? I guess that explains that whole Care Bear stare thing."

It took several hours but Bob and I worked through his expanse of knowledge to find more details on the original ritual. Unfortunately for me, it looked like the original ritual took place on All Soul's Day. A day that commemorated those who had passed. It was ironic and made a whole lot of sense. It also figured that I had an hour to get to Lincoln Park, which sat on the coast of Lake Michigan. It made perfect sense. Nature meets industrialization. The Seelie Courts found their irony amusing.

I packed what I could into a dirty gym back and took off for the Blue Beetle. Luckily for me, the streets were practically empty. The bar crowds wouldn't be staggering out to their vehicles for another two hours... if I didn't screw this up. 

Lincoln Park was at the North end of Chicago. It was a sprawling mecca of urban culture making nice with nature right on the edge of Lake Michigan. It was beginning to become apparent to me that nothing good ever happened on the shores of Lake Michigan. 

What I found on one of the many basketball courts would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life. It seems the Care Bears had found the bird conservatory near by. For they had used the blood of what appeared to be every bird in Chicago to lay out one of the most complex spell circles I had ever seen. 

Inside the inner ring, I found a horrifying sight. The very center of the ring laid the bones of a large man, skull missing. Standing over the corpse was a man dressed in what could only be described as a dirty Pilgrim outfit. That had to be Ichabod. 

To this day, I wish I hadn't looked around further. Because what I saw was an orgy of fluffy day glow colored bears. Why that part was necessary, I'm still not sure. Just as I approached, something blue crossed my path. I looked down to see a little blue bear with a rain cloud on his stomach. His adorable bear face contorted into a snarl as he stared up at me. His tiny, little voice was terrifying. "You like bears, Dresden?"

He leaped at me, knocking me to the ground. To my horror, the little ruffian had a straight blade in his tiny paw. All I could think was 'at least he's not going to rape me?'

Just as the bear was about the press the blade to my face, I felt something. A tug at the juncture of my elbow. Suddenly the world shifted and I found myself hanging painfully by my arms in a dank basement. As my eyes adjusted to what was happening around me, I became aware of the clamor that was going on in front of me. Murphy was kicking someone's ass. My muddled brain strained to understand what was happening. Murphy was kicking a pilgrim's ass.

As I stared at the dank warehouse around me, I became aware of someone beside me. I knew that wiry black hair anywhere. Butters. He was unhooking tubes from my numb body. How you could be numb and in pain at the same time, I'm not sure. But I was. I had to struggle to find my voice. "Butters? What's happening?"

Butters jumped as if I had scared the crap out of him. He probably wasn't expecting me to be conscious. He checked the pulse at my neck with clammy fingers as he studied my face. "You went looking for Ichabod Crane and never came back. Thankfully, we were able to find Bob. Crane is a Jinn, Harry. He's had you locked up in this warehouse for two days."

Making sure Murphy was busy with the... Jinn, Butters lowered his voice so Murphy couldn't hear us over her dirty work. "She's pissed at you, Harry. You shouldn't have taken off alone. We barely got to you in time."

I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while once they got me cut down. I listened to Murphy chew my ass while I internally laughed at myself. Care Bears? Really? Sometimes I wonder about my own imagination.


End file.
